


paying a debt

by WhiteSheep



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belly Bulging, Clothed Sex, Come Eating, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Deepthroating, Doggy Style, Dry Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Orgasm, Lube, M/M, Medieval, Missionary Position, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, POV Male Character, POV Second Person, Rimming, Rough Sex, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Somnophilia, Thief, Underage Sex, of sorts, younger man´s age is left to your imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSheep/pseuds/WhiteSheep
Summary: You pause. Looks to the entrance of your store. It’s doorless, allowing a perfect view from the empty path outside. Then you look to the boy in front of you, who is looking at the ground. Calling the guards, you reflect, might provide the punishment for attempted theft but it won’t give you your money – it´s lost, you suppose, in this case.So why not take compensation in some other way?“Okay,” you say, attracting the boy´s attention, “You can pay in another way.”You reach down and push your pants down.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 31
Kudos: 714





	1. little thief

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaim: this is for entertainment only, the author does not approve of any sort of break of consent/rape.
> 
> Disclaim 2: PLEASE do not use this or any of my other stories as an example of what real and healthy sex is/should be (let's keep in mind that condoms are not _just_ to prevent pregnancy. And if you're planning to stick something somewhere or let someone stick something in you, LUBE is your absolutely BEST FRIEND. Dry sex is only fun in theory!) and even LESS of what a healthy, nontoxic relationship is/should be.

When you decided to settle down on this particular piece of land, its relative distance from the busiest part of town was one of the main reasons. Total isolation, although instinctively appealing to you, is not an option when you are not a farmer or animal breeder to have your own source of food, so you choose this place that leaves you in a far corner of the main street, half-hidden by a few meters of forest. You keep the path clear of vegetation to draw attention, your small, rudimentary sign featuring your craftsmanship´s symbol of glass and fire.

By the very nature of your handicrafts, your customers are of a slightly higher caste than the average citizen, and consequently a little rarer than, say, the clientele of a tomato seller. But the lower sales are compensated for by the higher prices you are allowed to charge, as you are well aware that you are one of the town´s few glass artisans and you’re not afraid to take advantage of it. Which justifies your immediate attention when, one afternoon on a church day, you hear the distinct sound of breaking glass coming from your shop.

You frown – you have no orders to deliver today, which means that the sound can only mean either a new customer who just destroyed a showpiece... or a thief who took the lack of a vendor as an opportunity for easy profit. With your money carefully stored in your storage room, inside a safe whose key is hanging around your neck, you feel nothing but irritation at both possibilities. You leave your blowing pipe on the wall and leave the furnace room after an analytical glance over the fire and melting glass. Quietly, you head to your store. You push the back door with hinges so well oiled that you step in without making any sound, and can make note of the paralyzed figure standing close to the displays in the wall well before the person notices you.

It's a boy. Dressed in a tunic that has seen better days and pants that barely pass his shins, black hair messy. You approach swiftly. When he finally notices you, he turns toward you alarmed, two wide, honeyed eyes and a pale expression of panic – and you know which of the two options applies in this situation

Before the little thief can escape, you grab him firmly by the forearm, jerking him away from the remnants of your work, putting some distance between his bare feet and the glass shards. Satisfied, you then take a look at the squirming boy, already pawing at your hand and stuttering in protest.

“L-let me go!”

Your hands and arms, dotted with scar, burns, and cuts and used to the intense heat necessary to melt the glass, barely register his nail scratching. You still tighten your grip though, slightly jolting the boy in warning. “Stop,” you say, not loud and not quiet, but your voice hoarse from disuse resounds deep.

To your mild surprise, the kid _does_ stop. Even though people tend to say you are an intimidating-looking man, you still expected a little more screaming and cursing, but with wide brown eyes fixed on you, thin fingers unable to wrap around the thickness of your wrist, he´s only breathing quite noisily through the nose. The lack of unnecessary shrieks abates your anger a little bit, so you relax your fingers into a simple grip, no longer digging quite as hard into his bony arm.

You briefly cast your gaze over the glass, trying to guess by the shards what exactly the boy broke. With a frown of annoyance, you turn back to him. “Glass vase.”

The boy gulps. “I- I´m sorry, sir, I...”

“You gotta pay it,” you interrupt him, and extend your free hand. “4 silver coins.”

He turns even paler, his whole demeanor faltering. “I- I don´t have any money…” he says, voice cracking with panic.

You flick your eyes over him and it´s obvious that he´s not lying. If the ragged attire is not enough then his clearly unkempt appearance, with dirt under his fingernails and hay sticking out of his unbrushed hair, should be. All besides the fact he just tried to steal from you. A street rat, you conclude, some kid whose parents are either dead, poor or plain just don´t want him.

He’s someone who is _definitely_ not going to have the money to pay you.

“You were stealing,” you say, in a tone that leaves no alternatives.

The boy looks around wildly, fearful, trying to fish for some solution in the empty store. He finds none, you know, when he suddenly kneels down before you, jerking you slightly when your firm grip doesn´t slide. “I- I´m sorry!” he sobs, eyes welling up with tears, looking up to you in desperation. “Please don´t call the guards, please-!”

The penalty for stealing, you know, is losing a hand.

You are not moved. “You can´t pay, and you were stealing,” you say, not cruelly, but not kindly either. Harsh, perhaps, seeing that there´s a sobbing teenager kneeling in front of you, but one does not get to your age without friends or family by being soft-hearted to every poor soul. Brushing off one attempt is just an invitation for more.

“I can pay in some other way!”

“How?”

The boy hesitates and you witness his eyes flicking to your groin, at the height of his face with him kneeling and you standing, and it catches you a little by surprise. Even when he turns away quickly. The fact that he even thought of that-- and it´s like the lens of your vision shifts. The petty thief melts away, bringing forth the young boy with charcoal dark hair and skin dirty but free of scars of disease marks, a little dark no doubt from constant sun exposure, facial bones struggling to leave behind the softness of youth, only showing a little bit of the sharpness of an adult man. Lips a light pink, perhaps a tad fuller than your average man’s, with a little round spot right at his chin. And the thought settles suddenly inside your head.

_‘I wouldn´t mind fucking this face’_

You pause. Looks to the entrance of your store. It’s doorless, allowing a perfect view from the empty path outside. Then you look to the boy in front of you, who is looking at the ground. Calling the guards, you reflect, might provide the punishment for attempted theft but it won’t give you your money – it´s lost, you suppose, in this case.

So why not take compensation in some other way?

“Okay,” you say, attracting the boy´s attention, “You can pay in another way.”

You reach down and push your pants down just far enough to pull out your half-hard cock, already aching for attention. The boy´s eyes widen as they lock onto your tool, his mouth falling open slightly – and it brings a thrill of arousal, his obvious astonishment, even if you know you´re not particularly big relative to your body, perhaps leaning towards the thicker side. On anyone else, however, you are aware your nine inches cock would be stunningly hung and something a more insecure man would find an opportunity to brag about. To the young, lean kid in front of you, who wouldn’t be able to reach the top of your head even by standing on his toes, it´s perhaps something of a first.

You reach out and, grasping his dark hair, pull the boy towards your tool. He squeaks in surprise and perhaps instinctively angles his head to the side, making your cock slide against his cheek, gently pulsing at the surprisingly soft skin. The boy swallows nervously, grabbing your thigh with one hand before reaching up with the other, brushing along the underside. You can feel yourself stiffening against the shy touch, foreskin rolling over the edge of the head slowly. “I´ve never…” he starts, voice cracking anxiously.

You stare down at his scared brown eyes, peering up at you. You tilt your head. “Be careful with your teeth,” is all you say, hand steady on the boy´s head, and he quickly gets the message that his lack of experience is not going to make you back off. He bites his lower lip for a moment, closes his eyes, and then leans his head back to press his lips to the tip of your cock, and you can feel yourself throb immediately at the touch. Breathing in slowly, you watch the boy sinking his head down to seal his lips around the head before starting to gently suck, soft wet sounds as damp hotness greets your sensitive skin. You groan, both at the feeling and from the shudder of arousal at the sight of the kneeling boy, with his pretty petite mouth around your cockhead. You are fully hard now.

The boy jerks at the first surge of your precum, but with a firm grip in his hair, you don´t allow him to back away. “Swallow,” you order, tone dripping with authority, and the boy raises his eyes up to you, face flushed red. Finds no mercy in your expression. Shivering, then, his little Adam´s apple bobs slowly, drinking you up and you shudder in delight as his little tongue flicks up and involuntarily laps at your slit. It’s enough for you to feed him even more of your juices. 

Holding his head in both hands, you roll your hip forward, sinking deeper into that hot, wet little mouth with a low groan, grinding around to get it coated in saliva since the boy doesn´t seem to know enough or care enough to wet your cock. You know you can´t possibly fit the entire length into his mouth, that he´d only be able to take half at most, but you don´t exactly care right now, pushing to glide your head across the roof of his mouth and towards the back of his throat, grinding into his soft palates.

The boy makes some sort of protest muffled by your cock, flailing shaky hands up to grab your thighs as his eyes close tight. You stay still, breathing out in pleasure as your tip teases that ring of muscles that’s at the entrance of the boy´s neck, for many seconds, counting heartbeats. After a few more moments, his shoulders slowly untighten, not really relaxing in the sense that they still tremble with tension, and his death grip on your pants loosens a little as he delicately swallows around your tip, your pre pouring down his throat;

You have half a mind to just deepthroating right now, seeing that the boy clearly got over his gag reflex. But he has a lovely mouth and you want to enjoy it a little more. You plant your feet apart and uncurl your fingers, sliding your palms down until they are cupping the boy´s jaw and nape, thumbs brushing over his, cheeks which bulge out slightly from your volume and then start to roll your hips back. He trembles in relief and blinks open his teary eyes and you order in a voice that allows no arguments, “Suck me.”

You can feel him swallowing your juices or swallowing nervously you can´t say, but you don’t care, because he _obeys_ , gingerly pressing his lips around your girth to slurp in your cock as you slide back into his mouth. Fuck, it´s good, he´s good-- you groan, closing your eyes for a moment as you start a slow swing of your hips, sliding over the rough texture of his tongue to press against his throat over and over. You don´t know if he has ever done this before, his appearance makes you think it´s unlikely, but him being aware enough to keep his teeth away while so gently sucking at you makes the hornier part of you whisper about a natural cock-sucker, even when the way he's shaking says ‘virgin’. The lack of more elaborate tricks doesn´t bother you. It has been so long since you partook in any sort of physical pleasure, seeing as you don´t like wasting your money on whores and a relationship is too bothersome for you, that you almost forgot how good it feels, how warm a mouth is around one´s cock.

You keep at it, fucking the boy´s mouth with growing arousal and enjoyment, each thrust growing wetter than the last, aided by spittle and pre-cum, the fluids causing a wet, sticky sound to fill the air, accompanied by muffled whimpers and pleasurable panting. The clench in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, increasing the urgency of your hips and your careful pace starts to break as you pound against the boy´s throat, thinking of nothing much beyond the addicting feeling of those tense little muscles sliding around your tip. And soon it becomes clear that you want more, want that snug ring rubbing more than just your head, so you start shoving deeper and deeper, ignoring the boy´s flinches and gagging, the small, smothered, half the time interrupted whimpers, forcing your cock into that neck half-inch by half-inch.

You slam the thickest part of your cockhead against those folds of muscle and when you can´t sink any deeper, you lean in to put your weight behind, snarling softly as the boy´s eyes snap wide open, body jerking under your hands, slapping and scratching at your legs, fighting to stop you. His throat grips at you tightly, out of reflex or a conscious attempt to push you out, but with a glorious, shivering slurp, you punch through into his very throat and the boy freezes. You don´t care as your cock meets a mind-melting tightness, soft, convulsing flesh gripping around you and yet incapable of doing anything to stop your descent into that groping depth. You are barely conscious of leaning a hand against the wall behind the boy, even less of the shivering spasms of panic of the owner of the throat you just strained open way beyond its natural state. You feed him inch after inch in one long thrust, groaning as the untouched half finally sinks into the wonderful warmth and wetness of the boy´s mouth, your head forcing an obscene swell in his previously slender neck as it slides down, already half-way down his throat before you finally grind your hips against the boy´s face.

You are definitely leaning against the wall now, groaning and shivering in the pure pleasure softening your knees, and you stand this way for a moment, just enjoying your first throat in perhaps years. The boy has his hand gripped tightly to your hips, trying desperately to pull back, shaking violently, throat clenched and gagging, struggling to breathe.

After recovering a little bit of control, you tug back two or three inches before thrusting roughly into his throat, your hand forcing the boy down around your cock as your hips jut forward to push against his mouth. The slow pace from before is gone as you begin to roll your hips, your cock sliding in and out of the boy´s throat with abandon, allowing the trembling kid a single gulp of air each time as you assault his mouth, pounding harder and harder with each passing second. Your balls smack up against his chin, your pelvis against his face as he has stopped fighting you and appears content in letting you use his throat eagerly.

The seconds tick by. With every thrust, a groan pours out of you as you let your head hang, eyelids fluttering. The heavy weight knotting your stomach grows steadily, your orgasm climbing closer at each amazingly tight dive into that neck, and the part of you that doesn’t want this to end warns you. It reminds you how it has been so long since the last time you have done this, and fills you with the desire to explore this pleasure to its fullest. After all, you´re not a young man anymore, once you come that´ll be it for at least a couple of hours.

With a growl of disappointment, you make yourself sink in fully one last time, grinding around for a heartbeat before pulling back, sliding your cock out of the boy´s throat with a loud slurping noise. As you pop out from that ring of muscles and out of his mouth, he immediately sucks in a gulp of air before coughing rather violently, his whole frame jerking with each painful cough as he crumples forward against your leg. You give him a moment to gasp, and then crouch down to slide an arm around his quivering back, sweeping the other under his knees to easily bring him up, his weight barely making an impression on you. He chokes in the next gulp of air, trying to squeak in alarm, grabbing at your shoulders.

You turn to the backdoor, the one leading to your house, and go directly to your room without bothering to close the door behind you. You drop the kid on your bed, making the wood creak. The mattress wiggles a little as he immediately squirms about trying to sit. You don´t stop him, seeing that he´s still coughing and struggling to breathe right. Instead, you turn to your already open chest, kneeling to rummage through its content for a moment – then you find the flask you’re looking for and bring it with you to the bed.

The boy is wiping the tears from his face and the drool (and more) from his mouth, face flushed, eyes locked on you, open wide. His gaze darts to the flask in your hand and crawls back as you climb onto the bed. “What-” he starts, sounding scared before he’s cut off by a yelp as you grab his ankle and with no effort at all drag him back. His hand slap against your chest, trying to push you off but you ignore him, pushing a hand over his shoulder. “Lay down,” You order.

He shakes his head with little sobs. “Please-” he begs, resisting.

“Lay down.”

“N-no, please! You can keep using my mouth, I´ll do better, I promise-!”

You grab his struggling hands. “This is my payment,” you remind him sternly.

He sobs, tears flowing down his face. “P-please- not this, it´s gonna hurt!”

You tilt your head. “Have you done this before?” you ask.

The boy nods shakily, breathing hiccupping and it´s easy to see how terrified he is. You frown slightly. “When?”

Swallowing thickly, the boy squeezes his eye shut. The tears keep falling down. “T- the Horseshoe Inn o-owner, when- when he caught me stealing food. Said that-… that I was dirty thief and needed to be punished so he- he dragged to his office and-…” He suddenly sobs even harder, a loud hiccup interrupting his breathing, as he curls in himself. “It h-hurt so much…!”

You watch the boy cry for a moment, trying to decide on your feelings. In the end, you decide you don´t have to be unkind about this and that you are not the type that enjoys fucking a crying, terrified kid, that takes pleasure in unnecessary cruelty.

You _are_ going to take what´s owed to you, but you can afford a little empathy to make sure that it is not torture.

Still keeping a hold on his wrists to avoid a punch or a slap, you slide your legs from your kneeling position until you have your feet braced alongside the boy and then you cup his jaw as gently as you can, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “This is my payment,” you say quietly, “not a punishment. I´m not going to hurt you.”

“P- please- please, use my mouth.”

“I don´t want to.”

His expression crumbles in despair. “Then- it´s- it´s gonna hurt,” he sobs.

“It won’t.” You bring his face up to yours, and you look directly into his sorrowful brown eyes. Tries to let through the honesty of your words. “It will not. I won´t hurt you.”

The boy sniffles, staring back at you for a moment before letting his eyes fall between you two with a defeated slump of his shoulders. He obviously doesn´t believe you and you don´t hold it against him, since he has no reason to trust in your word – be that you won´t hurt him or that this can be done painlessly, considering that his last and probably first time went as a means of punishing him. It doesn´t bother you. You´ll show him.

You push him down once more and the boy goes without resistance this time. He squeezes his eye shut, hugging his own body and you can feel him shaking as you pull his leg over your thigh, sliding your hands over his lean hips to grab the knot holding his pants up, untying it with one tug and pulling his pants down, sliding them off him entirely. He closes his legs with a yelp, hands shooting down to cup and hide his soft cock flopped against his stomach, blushing fiercely. You let him, your interest taken by something else as you grab his thighs with one hand and push them against the boy's chest, gaze traveling down the plump line of his ass, surprisingly thick – you caress one cheek, feeling the tenseness of the boy and the little goosebumps on his skin, and then roll it apart to expose the little tender pucker.

You brush a thumb over it, watching it wink as the boy shivers and writhes, letting go of himself to grab a fistful of the sheets. It´s almost preposterous, wanting to push your dick inside this--… and yet it makes you want to do it even more. You lean down while you stretch his ass apart, spreading his delicate pucker just a little as you open your mouth, letting your tongue roll from bottom to the top. It earns you a soft squeak. “W-what are you…”

There´s the faint saltiness of sweat and something more, a distant sweetness, the way skin can taste sometimes. Humming, you tease the little ring, rounding it with the tip of your tongue, slathering it with saliva, feeling it spasm and tense under your wet assault, each lick eliciting another quiver and muffled whimper. Slowly, you push your mouth deeper, pressing your nose down his soft behind as your tongue plunges and probes, pressing firmly against the squeezing entrance. You are aware of the boy´s soft panting, as he squirms a little. He sounds bothered but as you keep at it, sliding one hand to caress one of his thigh and hips, although you can still feel him shivering, he starts to relax under your soothing touch. Finally, the little muscles relent, and his ring stretches open to accommodate your tongue as you slide in as deep as you can.

His breathing immediately hiccups as he squeals, automatically tensing and pushing your tongue half-way out but you resist, forcing your way in again. “W- what- why-” he stutters, breathless, grasping at the hand that’s holding his hip up. Not trying to tear it away, you note, even if he digs his finger fiercely into your skin. You don´t mind. You slide your free hand down his side and under his tunic, caressing his stomach in a reassuring manner as your tongue plunges deeper and deeper, curling and tasting every available inch of the boy´s inner walls, as you suck gently his little wrinkled hole. A passionate make out with the boy´s ass, not something you have done a lot before and never to another man, but you find you don´t really mind, something about his wriggles stir you to keep going. He takes the hand on his stomach with both of his in a tight grip and you take the initiative to lace your fingers together, squeezing back gently, just as his whimpers slowly turn into little gasps and gentle, quiet moans.

His legs are starting to relax, gradually melting from their tense guard to part slightly around you. As you curl your tongue, the boy draws breath in sharply and his innards spasms, ring clamping down and squeezing around your tongue, his entire body jolting. A brief stab of discomfort shoots through your mouth but you ignore it, curious rather than annoyed. Carefully, you purse your lips and suckles again, pressing and rubbing that same spot and the boy flinches, groaning out in a quiver, a little half-syllable of protest.

 _Hmm, very well_. Realizing you found his pleasure spot, you caress it a little more to make sure you have it memorized, paying no mind to the growing whimpers and little moans from the boy, before you slide your tongue out and lean back. You glance over the boy, taking note of his flushed face as he pants softly and blinks his eyes open, expression a little dazed, still holding onto your hand, down to between his legs where you can see his now fully erect cock. As you watch, a single bead of pre forms on the tip before slowly dripping to his stomach, leaving a transparent trail.

Satisfied that he has very obviously been enjoying this so far, you let his hip fall down to the bed before you move to grab the flask you left to the side, uncorking it to then turn a little of its viscous content out over your hand. Rubbing the oil over your fingers, you push his legs apart to kneel between them, taking the hand holding the boy´s to pin them over his head while you support yourself on your elbow. Watching him, you sink your slicked fingers between his ass cheeks, already wet with your saliva, slowly, unhurried as you caress his little hole. The boy closes his eyes briefly, turning his head against the mattress and you take the invitation to duck your head down and kiss the slim line of his neck, nuzzling gently under his jaw.

This earns you a surprised inhale and as you back away slightly, the boy turns to you with wide, confused eyes. You untangle your fingers from his to gently comb his hair, brushing it away from his forehead as you duck down and press your lips there, lingering as you gently press your middle finger at his entrance and then easily slide in. He immediately tenses, bringing his arms down to grab at the shirt on your chest, breathing through the nose a little deeper – but doesn’t back away or protest, and you sink to the last knuckle with little more than a whimper from the boy. You can feel him quivering around you digit, tensing and relaxing, tight little canal wringing at you and it fills you with a thrill of wanton desire, your cock aching terribly. Any lesser man would have forsaken the boy´s preparation at this. Feeling his hot, soft walls around your finger and just imagining it around your cock… Someone with less control would have simply pushed him onto the bed and just taken him, his comfort be damned.

Someone with less control did that.

But you´re a man of your word. This will happen without any pain, you promised. Besides, you are discovering that you… enjoy this. Enjoy watching the boy squirm and stutter out little moans, young body shivering under your touches as you take your time pleasuring him. Enjoy melting away his fears and reservations. As you plunge into his ass slowly with your finger, rubbing at the sensitive walls in a gentle exploration, a wave of warmth fills you – a strange, new form of delight, as you take in the boy´s reaction, the panting, eyes fluttering closed as his eyebrows draw tight together. “Does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

The hands on your chest falter in their grip and the boy swallows delicately… and shake his head once.

“Does it feel good?”

A shudder this time and the boy curls against you, raising a little to hide his face into your shoulder. You indulge him with an amused quirk of your lips, sliding your free arm around his bony shoulders to support him in a hug as you hook your finger and drag your nail gently across his inner wall, careful to avoid his pleasure button since it would certainly make him cum on the spot. The result is the boy arching, thrusting his hips up with a keen. “Does it feel good?” you ask again, low, at his ear.

The boy jerks a nod, shy, and you can feel his shallow breathing over your collarbone.

“Do you want more?”

His next inhales falter and he doesn´t answer.

You still your finger.

“Answer me.”

“I- y-yes…!”

You kiss his temple as a reward for obeying you, as you push your ring finger against the boy´s rim, working it in slowly alongside the middle finger already buried there. Even slicked with oil, it takes a little bit of effort to slip it in, straining open the boy´s ring, which tenses like a thick rubber band around your fingers for a second, before he inevitably relaxes for a moment-- and sinks both fingers to the last knuckle in one go. He sputters little whines and gasp, head falling back from its hiding place in your neck as he arches again, knees pressing your sides, his hands curling even tighter around your shirt. His hips buck together with your hand when you start fingering him smoothly. You tower, even among adults most of the time, and your rough, working hands reflect your size accordingly, so you´re careful to avoid the boy´s sweet spot, to be extra gentle to not overwhelm too soon the kid who seems to be on the edge already with only two of your fingers.

“Good?” you ask again.

He´s panting fast now, moaning despite his best efforts to stay quiet. “Y… yes,” he chokes out.

He has learned to relax, you notice. Although still sinfully tight, his walls don´t seem to be trying to strangle your fingers out and instead ripples around you, almost pulling in slightly from time to time. It seems instinctive, rather than on purpose, and speaks volumes about how much the boy is really enjoying this, that he´s unconsciously asking for ‘ _deeper’_.

There´s a growl in your throat at the thought, a deep, brutal sound climbing all the way from your gut, from the tight clench of arousal.

You really need to fuck this boy.

You slip your fingers out in the next draw and uses the same hand to grab your cock, groaning quietly at the feel of your throbbing, hot skin while you carefully spread the oil. You lean back from the startled boy. “Turn around,” you order. He pants, expression confused and dazed, not seeming to have understood your words, so you simply grab him with your free hand and turn him yourself, reaching for a pillow to stuff under his belly, ignoring his surprised squeak that turns into a sharp inhale when you pull his hips up, making him kneel on the bed.

The boy starts, a stutter full of fright that halts as you lean your hips forward, letting the thick length of your cock sink into his crack to be enveloped by soft flesh, head sliding down past his hole and pushing against his balls. You thrust slowly, sawing up and down against the boy´s entrance, sighing at the feeling. The boy is trembling. “N-no, wait-…"

You let go of one of his hips so you can grasp the base of your cock and angle it where it needs to go. The boy struggles, clawing at the sheets to get away. Whimpers as you smear the head of your cock over his blinking pucker, oozing pre-cum against his wrinkles before you push forward-- it resists you at first, tight little muscle flexing and twitching fitfully against your tip, but you are relentless and inevitable. You start to win, stretching him open slowly. He lets out a cry, squirming in your grasp as you force the thick girth of your head inside his ass, feeling the cramped space so desperately trying to push you out but it is helpless to do so, you lubed yourself well. In a matter of moments, the ring briefly stretches just enough and your head is swallowed, the ring sliding around it to seal around your frenulum. You shiver in delight, groaning at the incredible grip, pumping pre nonstop, pausing just for a heartbeat to gather your breath.

“Please, s-stop-!”

“You gonna like it,” you mumble, letting go of your cock to return your hand to the boy´s hips.

He shakes his head, shooting a hand down to grab at yours, trying to peel it off. “It´s t-too big, it´s not gonna fit-!”

“It will.” He cries as you lean forward, forcing yourself deeper into his ass. His insides spasms and he squeeze hard, perhaps trying to force you out, but you simply roll you hip back slightly and then thrust again, sinking in a few more good inches. The slow, inching descent has your skin itching and your hands twitching to slam him into your cock, but there's a certain agonizing pleasure in this slow claiming-- and the sight of him swallowing your rod is an another kind altogether. High, throaty moans break from the boy with his every breath as he nears the base of your thick shaft, his eyes squeezing shut again as his fingers hold the sheets in a death-grip, his attempts to stifle them only forcing them from him in louder, more passionate outbursts, his eyes snapping wide and his cheeks flushing all the brighter as another thrust brings fresh inches.

Finally, with one last push that plump butt presses firmly into you, and you let your head fall back, arms shaking a hint as he clutches at you, your sigh of pleasure mixing with the boy´s whimpers. After a while, you manage to ask. “Does it hurt?”

The boy breaths shallow, and you can see the ripples in his muscles, the way he´s quivering hard and nonstop. “It- it´s too big,” he sobs, muffled in the mattress.

You lean over the boy, putting a hand beside his head on the bed while keeping the other firmly on his hips, and grind in, rolls that tight ring wringing at you, around your very root. The boy keens, jerking to move away, but you keep him glued to you. “It’s all in,” you say, voice low and hoarse. “Does it hurt?”

“Y… yes…”

“Don´t lie to me.” Pulling to the side, down, around in smooth, wandering loops, following a primal rhythm, you roll your hips leisurely against the boy. A slow, flowing tempo, digging his depths and rubbing against his sweet spot time and time again-- and the tension of his ring slowly ripples up the walls, clinging at you, your motions driving the boy´s hips in a sensual swing, a swaying up his spine, as he shivers, forehead pressed against the sheets as he tries to resist you. “Tell the truth.”

The boy whimpers a sob, eyes closed, shaking his head slightly. You don´t really need his words: his walls are trembling around you, seeming to converge in a smooth, sinuous massage working its way up your cock time and time again, pulling you in now instead of pushing you out. “It´s- it´s too much, I can´t-” He´s panting heavily, fingers digging into the sheets. He´s on the edge, you know; you can read it in the way his back twitches. If you were to start fucking him right now, it wouldn’t matter what he´s saying, you know he´d come in a second.

You rub his sides gently, leaning down to kiss between his shoulder blades. “Tell me how it feels,” you mumble.

“It-… it burns,” the boy whimpers, arching slightly against your lips. So you kiss him again, slides your hand down to caress his stomach. You can feel a discreet bulge there, a little hotter than the rest of him. He covers your hand with his, brushing fingers over the swell of your cock inside him. “I c-can feel it… so- so deep.”

“Does it hurt?”

The boy starts crying, little overwhelmed broken sounds and finally- finally shakes his head.

You hum in satisfaction, a small smile playing on your lips as you raise to kiss his neck, gliding your hand down from under his to his hard, little cock, which you easily grasp in your palm, a thumb rubbing his leaking slit. The boy cries out, a violent shudder in little jerk of his entire body as he crumples onto the bed, while at the same time his hips try to thrust. “It´s okay.” You mumble the words into the dip under his jaw, licking slowly, containing his sudden outburst of movement. “It´s okay.”

“I´m- I´m scared,” The boy sobs, small, tight-drawn shoulders shaking under your chest.

He has never felt good in his life, you think. Never felt the mind-wrecking pleasure of a good fuck, at least. Breathing in his scent deeply, you wonder if you are about to give him his very first orgasm-- and you feel determined to make it a beautiful one. You drag your hand back to his hip, gripping it firmly. “It´s alright,” you say. “This is going to feel good.” And you pull back from his ass with a wet, slurping noise.

“N-no-!” Snapping his eyes open, the boy cries out loudly, clamping down so hard on you that you groan, forcing you to taking a steely grip of yourself to keep from going off from that alone. You ignore his pleas and slide back in, plopping that butt into you with a hiss of pleasure. _God-!_ Breathing deeply, you start thrusting against those soft, luxurious cheeks, feeling them curving a little across your thighs, feeling the raw, firm strokes as you drag off out and push into the boy. His stretched ring grips viciously around your length, his ass swallowing you over and over as you fuck him with deep, slow thrusts, low, half-stifled grunts pouring from your throat as you struggle to keep it gentle. He can barely contain you-- you can feel, at your deepest throbs, that it's like you're ramming against his very limit, straining his breathing each time you stuff that last inch home.

“N- ah-!”

His breath bursts in keens, high, crumbling, feet squirming in the bed as he grips the sheets, shaking his head. And it´s silly, this is your payment, you should take what you want, how you want, without any care about a petty thief´s pleasure, but with your hand slowly clutching at his hips, all you want is to break this boy´s reluctance and fear. Fuck him into crying harder, a more desperate and overwhelmed mess. So, you grit your teeth and take deep breaths, attempting little mental exercises to hold back, each one crumbling within seconds and quickly discarded for another. Sweat rises on your brow, and you have to still your hips over and over as they strain to shove down harder, and faster into that sweet, thick thief ass. Each deliberate stroke is agony. You're struggling to not come already.

You press down on the boy, hugging him against you. The bed creaks softly with every thrust, accompanied by the boy’s desperately muffled, growing moans, his harsh breaths and your own panting. Your hips swing back and forth, sliding your cock into the thief´s ass all the way to the throbbing base, before tugging back and thrusting again. Your skin tingles and prickles with the pleasure, the way he tightens and relaxes around you in turns. You can feel him take every stroke more tensely, his back muscles quivering. He's running out of time, out of willpower to resist, you realize.

Bracing your feet, you grab the boy´s arms and bring them to his back as you lean back and, using them as the anchor, you start really fucking him, the gentle loving-making melting away. Your balls slap firmly against the boy´s behind, making his cock swing against his stomach, flinging pre into the bed as the boy´s moans climb louder and higher as your speed increases, jolted, desperate bursts of sound. You´re rubbing his sweet spot continuously now, your pounding going from deep and long to relentless and shallow, each thrust wetter than the last. Soon enough, the sloppy sounds of your wet, precum-soaked sex fill the room, along with the bed´s incessant creaking.

You begin to grunt and pant in delight. There´s no way you’re going to last much longer, not when it has been so long since the last time. You let go of the boy´s arms to support yourself above his head, forcing him down into the bed with your bone-cracking thrusts, ruffling his dark hair with your hot breaths. The boy flails a little, hands searching for some hold to brace against your fucking, settling with grabbing your arms as he jolts back and forth, whimpering and moaning. Fuck- this feels amazing. Your mind is drunk with pleasure as you work in and out with burning hunger that only builds with how tightly he grips at you, and all too soon your balls are drawing tight, churning with a need to unload in that hot little rump. Then suddenly a single high, desperate, straining moan drags from the thief as he seizes tight around you and all you can do is slap tight to that ass and grind viciously, riding those squeezing, rippling insides as the boy comes, thick spurts of white soaking the sheets before you yourself let loose a throaty moan-- and fill that trembling boy with searing warmth in jerky, powerful jets, your lap and thighs growing wet and sticky while his asshole strains around your thickest, cum-filled throbs as you pump into his core.

The powerful grip of your orgasm lessens for one heartbeat, allowing you one sloppy, shallow thrust, before it fires up again, your balls churning as you spurt thickly, coating this boy inside. Cum leaks, gooey white dripping down his thighs onto the sheets, as the boy whimpers. The creaking of the bed stops, and the air is stilled, steamy and hot – nothing but quiet panting and the heavy scent of sex and sweat.

A few seconds and then you sigh heavily, relaxing with the waves of relief. You slowly pull back, sliding your cock inch by inch from the boy´s ass until the head pops from the tight clench of his ring, stretching thick ropes of sticky seed connecting you two, and cum starts flowing from the boy. You look over— he´s a melted mess in the bed, heaving breaths and trembling, face turned to one side, flushed red and bright, his tunic clinging like a second skin. As you observe, he blinks teary brown eyes open, dazed and tired and you two meet eyes for a moment.

Something takes hold of you for a moment, you´re not certain of what-- you lean down and press a kiss over the boy´s eyebrow, brushing fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. You hear him breathe in shakily and you angle your head down in time to catch the end of it, feeling a brief rush of air before you brush your lips over his and he stops breathing altogether. There is no tongue or anything like that, it couldn´t really be considered a kiss, and it´s over a second after.

Backing away, you raise from the bed with a grunt, reaching for an old shirt on the chest to wipe yourself clean, before tucking your softening, still half-hard cock into your pants once more. You glance out of the window, checking the sunlight – you lost more time than you predicted on this.

"Consider your debt paid."

The boy gulps, eyes full of something you can´t understand falling to the ground, and he nods.

"You can rest here until you´re ready to go," You say, wiping the sweat from your brow. Since you´re going back to the furnace, your sweaty clothes don´t need to change. You glance down, spotting the boy´s pants on the floor. You grab them and folds them before placing them on the bed, close to his feet. “Don´t steal again.”

You turn and leave.


	2. night heist

Ini´s dreams had always been the same brand of boring and depressing for as long as he could remember: if they weren’t about finding his family, then they were about a fantasy life where he was neither poor nor homeless, son to some faceless figure that grants him food and warmth. His most pathetic dreams come in times after he has been scavenging for food for days with no luck when the pain in his stomach finally relents long enough for him to fall asleep. Only to be tormented in his sleep by visions of feasts that his fingers can´t grasp.

Those are normal. They don´t bother him anymore.

Then one night they changed.

-

The dream started innocent enough. He was peering around the market, trying to blend in with the shadows and the crowd. Stressful, but normal. He can´t find a target, no one seems distracted enough and although there are no guards, he feels like he is being watched… and soon enough, he is _tackled_ to the ground from behind.

He fights, snarling and kicking, trying to push the person off, but he is easily and quickly overpowered. Face smashed into the dirt road, an immense weight climb on top of him as rough hands pin his arms behind his back. The person towers over him, shielding him from the harsh sun, drowning him in their shadow. But for some strange reason… there is no pain, no lack of air.

Their presence surrounds Ini, smothering him with a potent scent of sweat and- and something else.

The crowd parts around them without a second glance.

There is a pressure on his crotch. There is a pressure against his ass. He struggles and cries in protest, but the solid weight above him is unmoving, uncaring for his cries as they fight to pin him down. As they wrestle, from time to time he presses back against the pressure on his ass, feeling it hot and hard. They press back. This happens a number of times, increasing in frequency to the point it starts to blur into a single, grinding movement, a back and forth of this strange hardness against his ass.

The pressure on his crotch just grows worse and worse and he feels something is about to snap inside him, he doesn´t know what. There is desperation mixed after a while, a pent-up angst he can´t explain. He´s panting in the dream, face flushed hot. Shivering. He´s not fighting anymore. He feels a brush of softness against his neck and a hoarse voice mumbles lowly in his ear.

“Do you want more?”

He opens his mouth-

-

And Ini wakes up.

It´s still night. The place is pitch black, and all he can hear is the chirping of bugs and the whistling of the wind sweeping between the buildings. His heart, Ini realizes, is beating fast and, as he twists over the little straw nest he’s made, he finds out that he´s damp with sweat. A single drop trickling down his back. He swallows a stickiness in the back of his throat, brushing his tongue over his dry mouth before exhaling slowly, the dream still filling his head. Ini shivers and tries to shift his crotch away from the straw bed – it doesn´t work, moving seems to make things worse.

Ini pauses, licks his dry lips while he glances around. The little alley is empty, and the street up ahead is too. His heart beats loud as he trails a hand down, stuffing his fingers into his pants to wrap around his cock, achingly hard and throbbing. He whines and it sounds loud in the quiet night. Ini swallows again and moves his face against the inner part of his elbow, biting the soft skin there to try and muffle his voice as he tentatively starts moving his hand inside his pants. His toes curls at the waves of little pleasure, making him shudder.

He can feel the rough hands from the dream pinning him down, the solid weight of a chest pressed against the back of his head. A low, deep rumble right above his ear, ‘ _do you want more?’_ and thick fingers inside him, filling him up, making him feel _so good_. Ini whimpers, body humming with need. God, so, so good. His hips ache with bruises in the shape of powerful hands and his ass throbs, no doubt bruised inside, if that’s even possible. He remembers the feeling of them thrusting something hard and huge, terribly deep, a massive cock, thick and hot and-

Ini shudders from head to toe, back arching as he bites hard into his arm, choking back a moan as wetness spills in his hand, dampening his pants. A shaky exhale escapes his lips as he melts onto the straw bed, shivering from the waves of relief and pleasure warming his body. He is panting a little, cheek pressed to the bed, face flushed red as he stares at the alley wall.

With his hand still stuffed into his trousers, he can feel himself softening slowly. Ini bites his lower lip, a deep sense of shame climbing up his throat – embarrassment, confusion. He doesn´t do this type of stuff normally since most of the time his stomach is twisting with hunger and he´s so tired from running around all day trying to find food, shelter or money. Sometimes in the morning, when he wakes up hard for no reason, but it´s always dealt with quickly and impatiently. It’s never happened in the middle of the night.

 _Never_ , he thinks blushing harder, _thinking about someone in particular_.

He slips his hand out of pants to hug himself, curling up into a tight ball as he squeezes his eye shut, trying to banish the memories… but it´s useless. He shivers at the phantom touch of lips on his neck, on the middle of his back, while hands dotted full of little scars and burn marks caress his sides, rough and strong and demanding, moving him like a clay doll. A solid chest against his head, a body that covered him so easily. That could break him just as easily. That Ini thought _would_ , when pressed down on a soft bed with hands on his hips and a hoarse voice groaning quietly above his ear, feeling like he was being split in half with each powerful, slow claim of his insides. A huge, throbbing cock filling him whole. He can still hear the sound of the bed creaking underneath them, the wet slap of their bodies.

Ini swallows a whimper, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth. The glass artisan. He doesn´t think he had ever met the man before, thinks for sure he´d remember if he had – in his third or fourth decade, tall enough to tower over most men, a lifetime of carrying his own weight and working alone reflected in the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms.

A giant, that earns his living by creating delicate glass pieces.

Ini remembers a face marked by seriousness. Not cold indifference, but… stoic, with few laugh lines around his eyes. He remembers the heaviness of his _attention,_ settling over him like a hot blanket, and Ini knew at that moment, _that_ was something hard to get.

_This is a man who cares about little,_ something told him ** _,_** _and you just earned his interest._

It- it should have been terrifying. He remembers the innkeeper, his hand, sticky with ale, grabbing his hair the second Ini said he didn´t have the money to pay for the food he stole – the way his eyes shined with interest, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, baring his teeth, and he remembers how his own stomach dropped with instinctive fear. _Dirty thieves gotta be punished,_ he said with pleasure in his voice before hauling Ini to his office by the hair.

(The inn had been full. Ini remembers hearing voices and laughter through the walls while the innkeeper held a hand firmly over his mouth, fucking him over a table with ecstatic groans.)

It should have been terrifying when the artisan looked at him the same way, a new awareness to Ini´s possible uses clear from the tilt of his head. And it was. At first.

Then-… then something changed. Ini isn’t sure when or- or how. _Or why_.

He didn´t- he didn´t _dream_ about the innkeeper. Not like this. He was tormented by nightmares, a cold grip of horror shaking him with screams, choked out among sobs for days, weeks. Even now, the mere thought of that night locks his body in terror.

But the glass artisan-

Ini presses his legs together tighter, bringing the dampness there to a sharp clarity, his skin prickled with needless desire. He breathes out shakily, rubs his cheeks, trying to will them to cool. It´s useless. He finally can´t take the bubble of heat around him anymore and uncurls to shuffle out of the straw bed, getting to his feet.

Wishing to banish his strange, confusing desire, Ini forces himself to focus on his dry mouth and throat. He´s thirsty, and so he decides to find some water to drink. He pads across the alley barefoot, trying his best to ignore his sticky clothes and the slight wobbliness of his legs. He slips out of the alley after a quick glance around into the main street.

-

After managing to drink from a nearby well, Ini starts walking the path back to his little bed. However, half-way back he finds himself stopping when he meets a branching road to his left, meandering through the less commercial buildings and deep into the housing district. Beyond, he can see the faint shadows of trees.

Clenching his fists, Ini hesitates, thinking about his little improvised bed. It´s deep into the night. He should head back to sleep. Tomorrow is the fair day after all.

Then the image of that man invades Ini´s mind, his serious face close to his, and a hand that could so easily wrap around his throat, gently cupping his jaw. ‘ _I won't hurt you_ ,’ he said with absolutely nothing in his expression. Somber and direct. Blunt. The warmth of a statue in words and manner.

There was nothing _nice_ about that man.

Ini should just go back to his bed.

-

 _Just a peek_ , the boy thinks between one nervous beat of his heart and the next, staring at the half-hidden store among the trees. He had passed this street several times before, but last week was the first time he had noticed the discreet building with no doors, large windows, and a chimney coughing smoke up beyond the treetops. Normally he would have thought nothing of it if he hadn´t then seen the small sign indicating the nature of the place.

Glass craftsmen are rare. And expensive. It was the first time Ini had seen one that wasn't located in the rich district.

 _Easy money_ , that's what he had thought.

Wetting his dry lips, Ini takes a shaky breath before slowly walking around the store, grass whispering softly under his feet. He passes the first window and goes straight to the second, pausing briefly as he sees thin curtains fluttering slightly and a yellow, soft light leaking out. Expectation and nervousness plague him, dividing him into two distinct sides: his most rational side, citing all the ways this can go wrong and reminding him of what the man said earlier, and--

_‘Don't steal again.’_

_But I won't steal_ , the part of Ini he can't understand says, reasonably and encouraging. _Go_ , it says, pushing him to take the remaining steps and stifling his guilt with image after image of that man, making his stomach twist with a strange feeling. His heart seems about ready to explode.

_Just a peek_ , that side of Ini reassures, _no big deal… right?_

Ini bites his lower lip. He slowly approaches the window, placing a hand on the frame before finally, finally looking inside.

It's _the_ room. Four walls clean of decorations, a normal wooden floor, a candle on a bedside dresser that he had not noticed last time illuminating the room with a yellowish light. His gaze trails across the floor towards the bed in the far-left corner as he creeps closer, bending over the window frame to gain a better view.

The glass artisan lays flat on his back with a blanket covering his lap and one leg, the other folded and resting against the wall. One arm is over his stomach, whilst the other is leisurely tucked underneath the pillow, hair spread over the white pillowcase. His face is one of complete calm, the serious edges Ini remembers smoothed over… Ini´s chest makes a funny little swirl, that descends to his stomach when he notices the man has his chest exposed, soft light casting shadows over a chest and stomach defined by strong, practical muscles.

_He never took his clothes off while-_

Ini shivers.

The boy glances around, at the quiet forest and the little path beyond. Hesitates. _Just- just a closer look_ , he says in his mind, _it´s not a big deal._ He´ll get a little closer to see the man better and- and then he´ll leave. _No harm done_. Swallowing hard, he clenches his hands on the window frame, throws one leg over, and slides in, feet tapping the floor with a light sound, eyes on the sleeping man. When he shows no sign of stirring, the boy approaches slowly.

His eyes sweep over the sleeping figure several times as he stops at the bedside, his heart hammering nervously. Up close, he can see how the skin of his arms is a little darker than the rest, perhaps from constant exposure to stinging heat, with scars from cuts and burns punctuating his hands, diminishing in frequency closer to his biceps and shoulders. Even so, there are some burns on the man's torso, splashes of reddish discoloration on his chest and abdomen.

Ini stops himself when he notices that his hand is stretching forward, eyes flicking to the sleeping man's face. He is breathing deeply, a slow rise and fall of his chest and Ini’s conscience struggles, fighting the temptation to go even further. _This is too much_. Stop. _Leave_. If the man wakes up, Ini has no idea what´ll happen, but he can guess it won't be pretty. Ini had already been caught trying to steal from the craftsman once and was mercifully allowed to leave with both hands. The boy can't tell if he's going to get a second chance if he gets caught trespassing again.

_He only told me not to steal again, and I´m not_ , argues the side of him keeping his hand hovering in the air, _I´m not stealing anything._

_Go on._

Ini finds himself reaching out slowly, his hands trembling a little as he grabs the blanket and carefully pulls it off. He breathes out shakily when the sheet slides off to reveal a simple undergarment and toned legs, an impressive bulge catching his eyes immediately. Ini´s heart is a mad thing in his chest as he sits on the bed, trying not to upset the mattress. _The same mattress I was fucked over two days ago_. The thought comes with a bloom of memories and the tense clench in his stomach turns into a pool of heat as he reaches out again, placing a hand softly over the man´s chest. He traces his fingers across muscles, and the large scar covering one of his pecs, feeling its strange texture compared to the smoothness of the rest.

He finds that he… likes it. He really, really likes it. Swallowing thickly, Ini slides his hand down slowly, tracing the strength and power of this man and all his details and thinks-- Ini never really thought about what he finds more… fitting, in a person. Man or woman, appearance-wise beyond the obvious. He likes kindness and good humor, he knows, but a body was always just a body to him. He looks at someone and finds them attractive and that´s it.

This feels… _heavier_. Ini is swirling, full of noise and confusion at the wave of pure _longing_. He brushes fingers over the man´s arm, feeling the little bumps of scars and burns, the long, rough scar cutting across the back of the hand which must have hurt like hell. He interlaces their fingers together for a moment, marvelling at the size difference, and he remembers the way that hand curled around his thigh where Ini can still feel the bruises.

His ears are buzzing and Ini can feel the blush spreading over his face as he traces across hard muscles of his abdomen, feeling the thick, short hair trailing down to the edge of his undergarments. Ini´s stomach flips as he slides a hand under the undergarments, down to the man’s cock. The base comes first, tucked down and soft as it is. He slides his fingers around it, kneading it gently as he moves his hand up, to the hided tip. He rubs the foreskin a little, tugging it down around the head the way Ini knows feels good. The man breathes deeper, and the boy bites his tongue, feeling a _surge_ of desire.

Careful, trying to not wake him up, he starts to move his hand over the impressive length, feeling it harden under his palm. It doesn´t take long. He feels the glassmaker stir, a small groan escapes his throat as his calm expression wavers and Ini shudders, also beginning to grow hard. There´s a significant swell in the man´s undergarments now, and he feels the cock twitching in his palm. Blood hot and fast in his veins, Ini slides his hand out to grab the artisan´s waistband and he slowly pull it down, enough to reveal the man´s fat, stiffening cock. It flops into view, twitching and swelling to full length, foreskin rolling down to expose the red head.

The smell hits him, a strong musk scent he´s so terribly familiar with. Ini had been tasting it in the back of his throat for the last two days every time he swallows, together with a haunting ache. The inside of his mouth is still chaffed and sensitive. Looking at this tool, Ini thinks he´s lucky it didn´t snap his neck, cannot believe he managed to swallow the thing whole without tearing himself apart, even though he can still feel the phantom pounding deep in his throat.

He gently touches the head. It is startlingly hot. He hears the man groan quietly underneath him as he rubs the slit, pre leaking out as if on command. It´s sticky and warm and as he leans his head down, he presses his lips to the tip, using his tongue to scoop up some of the pre-cum. The faint taste blooms in his mouth just like last time, bitter, but salty at the same time.

He feels the artisan shift. The man groans in what sounds like pleasure as his hips push up in their slumber, forcing his cock into the boy´s mouth and although startled, Ini doesn´t fight it. It´s warm. Ini presses his tongue against the underside of it as the head pushes and smears against the roof of his mouth, leaking tiny strings of pre. His face is flushed hot, heart pounding, as he struggles to seal his lips around the man’s girth and gulps down willingly, not understanding why he´s doing this-- sucking another man´s dick of his own volition.

This is far more than Ini had planned to happen.

Is something wrong with him? Has he gone mad?

(He doesn´t- he doesn´t want to stop.)

He pops the head out of his mouth and leans down to suckle at the base, supporting the length on his palm as he slowly licks up, coating the cock with his saliva. The man shifts again on the bed, his eyebrows pressed together as he turns his head to the other side. Ini hears his little grunts and groans with thrills of arousal. He rubs the leaking slit with the tip of his tongue, teasing the little hole as he curls fingers around the base and starts stroking up to his mouth, then back down.

The man gets a little louder, slurred swears as he juts his hips up again, thrusting into Ini´s mouth. The boy´s jolts, but doesn´t back away. He presses his lips around the cock and slurps at it as the man backs down to the bed, licking the head while still pumping the rest of the length with one hand, the other on the bed for support. The pre-cum spurts copiously, and Ini struggles to swallow it all as the artisan keeps thrusting, jerkily and randomly, forcing it to dribble down the cock and coat his hand, slicking it as he rubs up and down. And down his chin, a combination of pre and saliva soaks the front of his tunic.

Ini feels the cock swelling underneath his hand and realizes what´s about to happen a second before the artisan grunts and thrusts deep into his mouth. It hits him: jets of viscous, warm fluid shoots down the back of his throat and it´s so much so suddenly that Ini pulls away instinctively, torn between swallowing the overwhelming amount of salty cum and coughing, white drops flying on to the bed and spilling over his tunic. But the jets keep coming, spurting over Ini´s face and neck, as the boy flinches away in surprise.

The taste is so strong compared to the pre and Ini can feel the stickiness of it clinging to his throat, thick on his tongue and cheeks… He swallows many more times, still coughing a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, watching as more jizz spills from the tip and pours down the man’s cock before he goes lax, sighing, still fast asleep.

The cock, glistening with saliva and cum, throbs once more and then stops, still standing up proudly. Ini´s stomach tightens, his own length twitching inside the suffocating prison of his pants as his desire mixes with his memories, and the boy finally gives up any lasting pretenses. Flicking one last look to the man´s face to make sure he´s still sleeping, he makes his move.

He tugs his damp tunic off before pushing down his pants, kicking them off with a shiver as his own hardness is exposed to the cold air, twitching and dripping. Fully naked, Ini climbs on to the bed carefully, trying his best to avoid shifting too much as he straddles the man. Then, slowly he presses his ass down against the man´s cock, feeling it throb and push back against him. Ini sighs shakily and rocks his hips up to let the slicked head slide across his pucker, making him shudder. He steadies himself with a hand over the man´s abdomen as he reaches back with the other to push the cock to the right angle, a jet of pre-cum shooting up right against his entrance. He tenses for a moment, a heartbeat to consider the madness of what he´s doing…

Ini grits his teeth, and slowly pushes down.

He didn´t expect it to hurt. His ring protests when it presses against the cockhead that, even though it’s pumping liquid everywhere, refuses to slide in easily. It gets stuck once the tip is in, and Ini has to focus on controlling his body´s spams to avoid zeroing his progress. He squeezes his eyes shut, lips between his teeth as inch by little inch is gained and his arms are shaking as he forces himself down, getting to the wide crown with a flare of pain that brings tears to his eyes. But as soon as he manages to pass that part, he naturally slides the rest of the way down until his hole seals around the head. Ini lets out a low, shaky whimper, clenching tight at the hot tip suddenly spurting liquid, slicking his insides, as the artisan groans softly underneath him, hands grasping the air.

It- it´s so big already. Feeling his hole stretched into a burning mess, the boy pants through the nose and falters, confused, the memory of two days ago making him think he´s doing something wrong. Perhaps if- if it goes deeper-? He shifts, breathing to relax, and tries to push down more. The man´s following smoothness is a different experience than the head and at first, it helps. But soon enough the cock starts to thicken and Ini is stretched too wide. He struggles to keep his voice down, putting a hand over his mouth to stifle the whimpers of pain as he feels the patches of skin not slicked enough catching at his walls, tugging and pulling, the constant liquid being poured into his ass bringing little relief.

A little less than a third is inside when the burning agony is just too much to him to handle. He stops, heaving, whole body shaking. The pain is enough that he feels like crying, his cock now soft, so he shifts to pull out, shame and humiliation sweeping over him.

Suddenly, he feels a sensation on his hips, and he freezes. Someone is… touching him.

He opens his eyes and slowly raises his head. His heart drops when he sees the artisan staring up at him groggily, his eyes blearily blinking open. The man watches him for a moment as he slowly comes to his senses, shaking off the sleep with a slight frown, and Ini can´t think or move. Caught. He was caught.

He has no idea what happens now.

Full consciousness finally fills the dark eyes and they flit about Ini before settling on the boy´s face, his expression unreadable.

Ini opens his mouth, but his voice doesn´t work. He stares at the man, eyes wide and panicked. “I- I…”

The artisan narrows his eyes. “What I told you about stealing?” he mutters quietly, voice a hoarse, raspy whisper.

Ini feels his face flush, embarrassed and ashamed. “I- I´m sorry-”

His weak apology is interrupted as the hands clasping his hips tighten their grasp, and he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing to be pulled off and no doubt thrown to the ground. “You will be,” the man growls and Ini shivers in fear, expecting the worse. So, he´s caught completely off guard when fingers dig into his flesh and he´s pulled down against a sudden, hard, rough thrust.

A monstrous swell of cock-flesh rams into his ass three or four inches at once and Ini´s scream gets caught in his throat, his breathing choked as he arches violently, widening his eyes to the ceiling. Prying him open with his dick, stretching his insides around its unforgiving girth as the man drives deeper and deeper in an unrelenting push. Inch after terrible inch sinks into his panicking asshole, burning his walls raw with the friction of dry skin on dry skin and finally, almost suddenly his hips push firmly to Ini´s ass.

The artisan shoved all 9 inches of his cock into the boy in a single thrust, and Ini´s insides are convulsing and clenching from the intrusion in panic. His cock stands on end, wildly twitching from the feeling of a warm, pulsing cock thudding against his prostate even despite the searing pain in his ass.

Ini finally, abruptly drags in a shaky, broken breath.

"If you want to get fucked--" The man pulls back slowly, his cock dragging out of his hole slick with juices but not enough to prevent the burning, making Ini quiver and cry in protest.

“N- no, wait-!”

"Then you'll get fucked."

He draws out halfway before abruptly slamming home again, knocking the air from the boy as he is shoved up into the air. Ini grabs the man´s arms, panting shakily as he feels the legs underneath him shifting as the man plants his feet against the bed, steadying himself. He drags free once more only to barrel home again, forcing a whimper of pain out of Ini. He pulls out, and then a sudden, vicious stroke takes Ini off guard, only to melt into another draw, dragging his cock through Ini´s aching, stretched, leaking body slowly, savoring the feel of Ini´s internal muscles clinging to him in panic, before ramming in brutally the next heartbeat.

Ini struggles for oxygen, air rushing out of him and then drawing sharply into his lungs. _I-it’s nothing like last time-!_ The melting pleasure is nowhere in sight, the man's every thrust slamming so deep within him that Ini is half sure he can taste him in the back of his throat. Ini hangs his head forward between tight-drawn shoulders and whimpers and cries, the bed creaking loudly from their vigorous, rough sex, punctuated by the sharp slap of their bodies colliding. The cock inside him is a hard, numbing mass of heat, spreading out his inner walls and assaulting his ring at all manner of rough angles and Ini is not sure if the overwhelming feeling shooting through his body is pleasure or pain. The man's balls slap up against his behind with every thrust, and his own cock and balls bounce wildly up and down.

He´s fucked like that for a few more moments, jolted up and down on the man´s lap mercilessly, his sobs and pleas ignored. After a few minutes of hard thrusting, the man fucks deep and doesn´t immediately pull back. He grunts at the panting, crying boy as he reaches up to hold onto his sides before rolling them over, pushing Ini down onto the bedsheets, making the kid hiccup in alarm. The huge size difference means Ini is greeted to the sight of the man´s chest, his hand shooting up to push against hard muscles.

But his arms fold like cotton when the artisan leans down, sliding arms around his back and locking Ini in a prison of body heat and the intense scent of musk and sweat. The boy gulps and tries to breathe. The man drags back halfway again and shifts about, straightening a moment before slowly thrusting in again. Ini moans quietly, the slow stretch bringing an unexpected wave of pleasure. The man does it again, faster, and this time the boy gasps, finding his own hips leaving the bed suddenly, suspended by the man´s cock.

“Legs,” the artisan growls above his head and Ini feels himself blushing fiercely, as he jerkily hooks his ankles around the older man´s legs as best he can. The man slides one arm down around the boy´s waist, supporting his lower back before pulling back and then pushing in again, slow and careful, and Ini lets out a strained whine. He manages to wriggle his arms out from the tight embrace and from under the man´s muscular arms, reaching up to try and grab his shoulders but is unable to – his fingers dig between powerful shoulder blades as he sinks his face into the man´s chest, forehead pressed directly above his heart, as the man begins thrusting once more. The shivers of pleasure are starting to climb his back.

The bed creaks softly, hitting the wall with muffled bangs at the rhythm of the man´s hips, an increasingly loud pounding marked by the slap of skin and a wet squelch, the sounds of such an inappropriate encounter filling the small, quiet room. Hips beat to his wide-spread ass, heavy balls bouncing off both cheeks, scarred hands pinning the boy tightly in place as his body rocks under the man´s lustful self-indulgence. A shameful ‘ah ah ah’ is muffled between them, as the twitching, leaking little cock, symbol of the boy´s pleasure even under such rough claiming, is hid between their bodies.

Ini can feel – the sensual undulation under his palms, broad back shifting with firm, devasting muscles and belly flexing back and forth with the long, firm motions, sliding into the boy´s worn ass. The man stomach crunches slightly each time, pushing his hips to firmly, hungrily grind Ini´s wide-spread ass while excessive liquid leaks from the boy´s hole and trickles down his back, mixing with sweat before dripping down to the bed. His hands loosen and flex before seizing down on Ini´s body again. The boy squeezes his eyes shut and pants, mouth open. His insides are straining and stretching in ways they shouldn’t, trying to accommodate the volume being forced into him.

Ini can smell them, their sweat and scent clinging to their bodies like a bubble of heat. He curls his fingers, blunt nails doing their best to scratch the man´s back, feeling the clench in his stomach grow more intense with each thrust. The man presses against the pillow, face buried in the boy´s hair as his entire body coils around the smaller figure possessively, pounding to his deepest core relentlessly. Mouth open too, groaning lowly. The bed clatters against the wall and bedside dresser, sending the candle trembling, wood whining in protest. No sounds come from the boy anymore, struggling simply to breathe as he is.

Finally, the man breaks into a fevered, shallow assault on the boy´s ass, balls drawing tight. The boy strains around the terrible, sudden stimulation with a cry, arching violently as his eyes pop open, desperate. The first pulses rise with a final, resounding thrust, the man´s groan sizzling out breathless as heat churns inside Ini, slowly straining his walls before seed spurts out of his hole around the cock with a wet squelch. Ini’s own cock fires off desperately, spilling between their stomachs as his beaten, submissive internal muscles give a few weak squeezes around the beast that had claimed him, the boy shuddering and wringing his legs.

A long, purr-stained breath winds its way out of the man as he finally relaxes, unclenching his powerful grip over Ini´s body slowly. He blinks, lazy and dazed, as the boy lies panting weakly beneath him, trembling. He shifts and whimpers softly, rubbing his forehead against the strong heartbeat above him, feeling every inch inside him, raw and throbbing.

He has but a moment to breathe before the artisan moves and drags inch after cream-coated inch out of the boy well-used asshole. Ini is left to moan and gasp as his hole finally empties with a pop—and a flow of hot, sticky cream washes out of his gaping hole to dribble down his back and soak the bed. It seems like there’s a void inside him as if the cock left him permanently stretched.

Just like last time.

The man sighs above him, leaning to the side to roll onto his back and lay down, making sudden cold air sweep over the overheated boy, stomach wet with his own climax. Ini shivers, but his body is a slumped form, muscles soft and unwilling to obey.

The two of them breathe heavily, the only sound for a long minute except for the soft whisper of wind outside, the night bugs chirping.

Panting and wrecked, leaking a steady river of cum onto the bed, Ini resolves to lie there for a while, closing his heavy, tired eyes. He hears the artisan´s breathing calming beside him, his body a source of intense heat warming the entirety of his right side. He knows this is just a short pause – the consequences of his actions are coming. He doesn´t think the artisan is a man who gives second chances.

His eyes burn for reasons he doesn´t want to think about.

The man moves after a moment and Ini feels him leaning over him, body brushing his as the artisan reaches for something on the floor beside the bed. Then he leans back… and starts rubbing something soft over Ini’s stomach. The boy forces himself to open his eyes, vision fuzzy and tired, blinking up to the man beside him, supported on an elbow while he cleans the mess Ini made with Ini´s shirt, expression tired and surprisingly… calm.

The boy averts his eyes, embarrassed when he proceeds to clean his groin as well, before moving to dry himself. He then throws the shirt to the floor and flops back on to the bed.

Silence. Then the man finally speaks.

“We´ll talk in the morning.”

Ini´s heart skips a beat and he looks to the man. “I… I´m sorry,” he tries, a whisper.

“In the morning,” the man interrupts, closing his eyes. “Sleep.”

Ini gulps down, nervously, but nods. He shifts a little, rolling to the side, away from the damp spot on his back. He ends up bumping a little against the man, who opens his eyes to glance down at him briefly as Ini stutters a quiet apology and tries to wriggle away. But the bed is not exactly big, made for one person, and however small Ini is, there is just not enough space for the both of them to be comfortable.

The boy slumps, giving up. He is thinking about just sleeping on the floor to at least stop bothering the man – after all, he’s slept in worst places – when suddenly he´s grabbed by the waist and plucked up with the ease of grabbing a kitten. Ini squeaks in alarm, the man manhandling him around until the boy finds himself laying on top of the artisan, face over his chest.

The boy freezes.

The man huffs above his head, resting one hand over Ini´s back. The boy risks peering up at the man and finds he already has his eyes closed, seemingly unbothered by his weight.

The tenseness bleeds out from his sore muscles. Ini hesitates before making himself a little more comfortable, legs intertwining with the man´s as he slides both hands to his sides, pressing his ear over the soothing sound of his strong heartbeat. Ini closes his eyes after a while, breathing out softly.

And goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Kadorath who, by the kindness of their soul (and probably the horror of their eyes), offered to beta this story so it is less painful to read! I can only imagine the awkwardness that it was to edit my terrible porn, your sacrifice was not in vain. Thank you again.
> 
> Hey guys, feel free to visit me in my [tumblr](https://play-of-kids.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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